It lifts the poor man from his cell <br />To fortune's bright alcove; <br />Its mighty sway few, few can tell, <br />Mid envious foes it conquers ill; <br />There's nothing half like love. <br /> <br />Ye weary strangers, void of rest, <br />Who late through life have strove, <br />Like the late bird which seeks its nest, <br />If you would hence in truth be blest, <br />Light on the bough of love. <br /> <br />The vagrant plebeian, void of friends, <br />Constrain'd through wilds to rove, <br />On this his safety whole depends, <br />One faithful smile his trouble ends, <br />A smile of constant love. <br /> <br />Thus did a captured wretch complain, <br />Imploring heaven above, <br />Till one with sympathetic pain, <br />Flew to his arms and broke the chain, <br />And grief took flight from love. <br /> <br />Let clouds of danger rise and roar, <br />And hope's firm pillars move; <br />With storms behind and death before, <br />O grant me this, I crave no more, <br />There's nothing half like love. <br /> <br />When nature wakes soft pity's coo <br />The hawk deserts the dove, <br />Compassion melts the creature through, <br />With palpitations felt by few, <br />The wrecking throbs of love. <br /> <br />Let surly discord take its flight <br />From wedlock's peaceful grove, <br />While union breaks the arm of fight, <br />With darkness swallow'd up in light, <br />O what is there like love.<br /><br />George Moses Horton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-powers-of-love/
